


Crufts

by Elton_Hercules_John



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Corgis, Crufts, Dog Shows, Dog handler Mycroft, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Greg is Sweet, In his spare time, M/M, Mycroft is a Softie, Puppies, What Mycroft gets up to on weekends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22316737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elton_Hercules_John/pseuds/Elton_Hercules_John
Summary: Mycroft offered to take Greg to a dog show. At the time, Greg didn't realise it was Crufts and that Mycroft would be competing in it.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

Gregory, we're going to a dog show this weekend. MH 

What? GL

A dog show, Gregory. Down in Birmingham. MH

Working, can't. Sorry. GL

I've already taken care of that. MH

Why are you so insistent that I go to a dog show in Birmingham? Is this a setup? GL 

No. MH

Why are we going, then? GL

To watch dogs, obviously. MH

But why? Is there some assassination attempt going on? GL

No. MH

Stop being so vague. GL

I have told you already, Gregory. We are going to a dog show in Birmingham to watch dogs. MH

Yeah, I got that bit. But why. You've never shown ANY interest in dogs ever. So there's something going on. GL 

Yes, there's a dog show going on. MH

You're bloody infuriating. GL

I love you too, my dear. MH

Why are we going to a dog show in Birmingham, Mycroft? GL

[Long pause] 

Because I like the corgis. MH

Because you like the corgis. Of course you like the corgis. Bet you like the… What other breeds of dog does the queen have? GL

Dachshunds. MH

Bet you like the dachshunds as well. GL 

I am neutral about dachshunds. MH

Could see you carrying round one of those little fluffy dogs tbh. GL 

You'll have to be slightly more specific, darling. Papillons, long haired chihuahuas, löwchens, bichon frises, havanese, pekingese… Perhaps, a pomeranian? MH 

Had to Google half those breeds. But yeah, that last one. GL

Ah, pomeranians. The favourite dog of Queen Victoria. She was key in breeding their size down from a medium sized dog to a toy dog. She had one with her on her deathbed. MH

So, you just like every dog that royals have? GL

I am not a fan of King Charles Cavaliers, to be quite honest. Named after King Charles the second, but prone to numerous problems with their eyes and ears in later life. Plus, they are spaniels. They smell. MH

God, you're a dog snob. GL

Am not. MH

Sound like one. Is it Crufts we're going to? GL

Maybe. MH

Course it is. Knew it wasn't gonna be some little local show. Had to be a massive televised international show, huh? GL

Only the best, dear. What dogs do you like? I will insure that I work their classes into our schedule. MH

Course you have a schedule for this show. GL

I have a schedule for everything, dear. And you didn't answer my question. MH

Cause I dunno dogs like that. GL 

Google them, then. I have a breed standard book in my library, but you never go in there to read. MH

It's a good napping spot. GL

[Long pause] 

I like staffies. GL

Staffordshire bull terriers? Yes, lovely breed. Quite aloof. Any others? MH

Boxers and Labradors. GL

Very plain, but good choices. Very fitting for you. MH

You calling me plain? GL 

Not at all, my love. You are far from plain. I was simply stating that your personalities are alike. MH 

Can we get a dog? GL

No. MH

Why not? GL

We are too busy. MH

Boring. GL

Stop talking like my brother. We are far too busy for a dog, especially a bigger breed like the ones you enjoy. MH

Fiiiiiiine. But don't blame me when I come home one day with a really old rescue dog. It's gonna be the best dog ever and we're gonna spoil it to bits. GL

No. MH

If I come home and find a dog, I will be building kennels and you and the dog can subsequently live out there together. MH

You wouldn't do that. GL

Try me. MH 

Mr Snuffles says "I ruv rou mycrooooooft". GL

I won't even be building kennels if you insist on calling it Mr Snuffles and giving it a voice. You can just live outside without shelter. MH

Ruv rou too. GL

Mm. MH

Say ittttt. GL

I love you. MH

In the voice. GL 

Gregory, there is no 'voice'. We are texting. MH 

Just do it, Myc? For me? GL

[Long pause] 

I ruv rouuuuuuu. MH

Dear god, that is embarrassing. MH

Awooooooo. Love you too, Myc. GL


	2. Chapter 2

Greg was grumpy. 

Of course, that was nothing new to Greg, but he would rather be spending his weekend off by waking up late to breakfast in bed, and then Mycroft wanking him off. But that wasn't the case. 

It was currently five o'clock on a Friday morning, Greg was freezing his tits off, and Mycroft was far too cheery. 

"Come on, Gregory. If we leave now, we will make it to Birmingham by half seven. That gives us plenty of time to set up and have a look around." Mycroft had said, way too much excitement in his voice for a Holmes. "I understand that you are quite tired and quite annoyed, but there's coffee in a flask in the car and you can have a nap in the time it takes to reach the Arena. Oh, Anthea will be meeting us there, by the way." 

"Course she will be…" Greg scratched the stubble growing on his chin in exhaustion before dipping down into the towncar. Mycroft decided to sit in the middle seat, knowing that he was most protected if anything were to ever hit the car from the sides (always an irrational fear of Mycroft's), then handed Greg a flask of freshly brewed coffee, resting his head on his shoulder and getting comfortable. 

"Myc?" 

"Yes, my love?" 

"Before you go back to sleep… Why's Anthea coming when it's your day off?" Greg uncapped the top of the flask, carefully pouring a mug for himself as the car moved off. 

"Companionship." 

"You've already got me coming, babe. Am I not enough or something?" Greg teased, making Mycroft quietly chuckle. 

"My darling, you are more than enough. Anthea is simply coming because she likes dogs." 

"... Really? Saw her as more of a cat person, to be honest." Greg finished the mug, screwing it back on top of the flask. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Mycroft's little island of hair. 

"LondonCats isn't until April, but yes. Anthea will be going to that too." Mycroft cuddled closer to Greg. "However, she likes the Bracco Italianos and the Weimaraners at Crufts." 

"... Right." 

"They're both hunting dogs, Gregory. Braccos are orange and white, with big floppy ears. Weims are grey, with slightly smaller yet still floppy ears." Mycroft spoke as if he was explaining it to a child. "I must admit, I for one am quite surprised with her choices in dogs. I always imagined her liking the smaller dogs." 

"Yeah." 

"You stopped listening about two minutes ago, didn't you?" 

"Yeah." 

"Get some rest, my darling. Perhaps I shall nap, too." 

The two fell asleep in the back of the car not soon after, Mycroft cuddled up to Greg's chest under his arm. They slept peacefully all the way to Birmingham, only woken by the chauffeur once the car was parked. 

*****

Once inside the arena, Mycroft looks like a kid in a candy store. There was bright lights everywhere, and the constant sound of dogs barking and yapping and boofing. He wrapped an arm around Greg's to keep him from getting lost in the crowds, and marched with purpose, obviously on a mission to get somewhere specific. 

"Myc, love, where are we going?" Greg frowned, leaning down to pet a very fluffy dog in passing. Husky? Probably not, but Greg knew that huskies were big and fluffy, and that dog was big and fluffy. 

"Anthea's all set up backstage." Mycroft explained, taking out a dossier from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. How he had managed to fit that in there, Greg didn't know. "So, we're going to meet her. What is the time?" 

"'Bout eight. Why?" 

"Just checking that we were on schedule. Stop." Mycroft stopped dragging Greg along as he handed a dossier to someone wearing an official-looking Crufts shirt. They looked it over, then let the pair through to the backstage area, where the barking and yapping was even louder. Greg was growing suspicious. 

"Luv, what are we doing back here?" 

"Meeting Anthea, like I said. The corgi class starts at ten o'clock, we have plenty of time. Wonderful." Mycroft started slaloming between dog cages and tables, hand grasped with Greg's so he didn't get lost, until he saw the familiar face of Anthea. The familiar face of Anthea with a dog stood on a table next to her. A corgi. A corgi stood on the table next to her. 

"Right, babe, stop." Greg grabbed Mycroft's arm, hauling him back before they reached his PA. "You are gonna calm down and tell me why we're backstage at a dog show and why your PA is standing next to a corgi, that seems to be hers."

Mycroft looked away from Greg's gaze. "It isn't her dog." 

"Well, whose is it, then?" 

"..." 

"Mycroft Holmes." 

"No-" 

"Mycroft Edward Percival Holmes, have you been hiding a bloody dog from me?!" 

"Now, Gregory-" 

"How the fuck… How do you hide an entire dog from me? I'm in the house like, 24/7 when I'm not working, there's never any dog hair on any of the furniture, I've never heard a dog bark once in that house, and on top of that, I've never fucking seen one! Where the fuck did you smuggle a corgi in?!" Greg was more shocked than angry, just confused at how Mycroft had managed to hide the dog. 

"Gregory, please lower your voice. People are staring. Princess-" 

"Of course it's called Princess." 

"You didn't let me finish. Princess Anne's Revenge of Holmesbrae House is her full name." Mycroft led Greg over to the table that the corgi was sitting on. She was a soft orange colour, four shining white socks, and looked very excited to see Mycroft. "Oh, hello, my little darling… Have you been behaving for Anthea?" 

"She's been perfect all morning, sir." Anthea said, looking up from her phone for a moment to smile at Greg's shocked face. Mycroft had picked up the corgi and was cradling them like a baby. Jesus Christ. What was going on. 

"Who is my perfect grand champion, hm? It's you, my little darling… It is…" Mycroft cooed in the way one would normally talk to a baby. The dog just panted in return. "Would you like to hold her, Gregory?" 

"Eh… Not really. I'd, uh, like to know how you hid an entire dog from me." Greg shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing his shoe against the wheels of the cart holding the kennel that Princess Anne's Revenge of Holmesbrae House seemed to live in. Jesus, that dog needed a shorter name. 

"I keep her at Anthea's house, dear. Anthea has a nice big garden that Princess can run around in." So, her name was Princess, then. "It's better than being in the centre of London. Better for her lungs and overall health." 

"Jesus christ." 

"Yes, darling?" Mycroft placed the dog down and started gently brushing through her coat. 

"Nothing, it's just… A, uh, shock to me. After you said we weren't gonna get a dog and everything… Hang on, it's competing today?" Greg's brain seemed to be working in slow motion. 

"Yes, she's competing in her class of Pembrokeshire corgis today. If she wins that class, she goes forward to compete against all the pastoral breeds. Collies, shepherds, malinois. If she wins that, she goes forward to compete in best in show. And if she wins that, then she wins the whole competition overall, a trophy, and £100." Mycroft spieled as though he had said it a thousand times, while simultaneously flipping the dog onto her back to brush her chest fur. 

"Riiight." Greg looked around. "And… Anthea is showing her?" 

"No, I am." Mycroft said nonchalantly, checking one of Princess' paws before tutting. "Oh, darling, your paw pads are terribly hairy. Gregory, there's scissors in that bag. Small ones. Please hand me them." 

"These?" Greg dug through a kit, finding hairspray and oil and a toothbrush before finally pulling out a pair of scissors. 

"Yes, perfect." Mycroft started carefully trimming the hair between Princess's paws. "Stay still, my darling." 

"You're competing here?" 

"Gregory, you're being terribly slow today. Yes, I am competing here. With this dog. We will hopefully win our class, at least." Mycroft squinted at one of Princess' paws, and Anthea gave him a pair of glasses to wear. "Thank you."

"So, you wear glasses too. Anything else you want to tell me?" Greg muttered. 

"No, you know everything else." Mycroft murmured, concentrating too hard on Princess. "I'm long sighted. I normally wear contact lenses. Anthea always carries a set of glasses if I forget." 

"Right…" 

"Oh, Princess, you are such a gorgeous girl… Who's judging today, Anthea? Pembrokeshires and pastoral, please." Mycroft pressed a kiss to the dog's nose, something Greg thought he'd never see. 

"Mr A Carter for the corgis, Ms H Cameron for the pastoral show." Andrea said as she scrolled through the schedule on her phone. 

"Carter… That's the bloody American, isn't it?" Mycroft tutted as he took out a pair of nail clippers, giving Princess a quick pedicure. 

"I'm afraid so, sir." 

"It will be a miracle if I make it through, then." 

"What's wrong with the judge?" Greg asked, perplexed. He knew Americans weren't Mycroft's favourite when working, but Mycroft seemed to loathe whoever this A. Carter was. 

"He doesn't know what to look for in this breed. He's bloody terrible. He's never put my dogs through before." Mycroft growled, swiftly filing at one of Princess' nails.

"Hold on, you've been before?" 

"I go every year, Gregory. I just call it 'business trips'." Mycroft smirked. "As if my dogs wouldn't qualify for Crufts… I have qualified every year for twenty years, Gregory." 

"And you never thought to tell me this?" 

"I never thought you would find it interesting, to be honest." Mycroft looked over his shoulder at Greg with a raised eyebrow. "Not many people do." 

"It's, uh… Different, yeah. But not a bad different. Least it's not something weird." Greg shrugged just as Mycroft started painting Princess' nails with some form of clear nail polish for dogs. "... Least it's not something really weird, I suppose…"

"Well, I'm glad you are supportive of my hobby." Mycroft blew on Princess' nails, hoping to speed up the drying process. Princess looked very happy at all the pampering. 

"Yeah, I'm behind you, love. 100% of the way. And I bet that you're gonna get that grand supreme thing." Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft, giving his neck a soft kiss. 

"Grand champion…" Mycroft murmured, tipping his head back so it rested on Greg's shoulder, cuddling into him. "I love you, dear…"

"I love you too." 

"Take my wallet, my sweet, and go have a look around the shopping village. I am sure you will find some street food to tide you over." Mycroft passed Greg his wallet with a kiss to his cheek. "If you do find some food, would you mind bringing me back something light? I would hate to get a cramp while running in the ring." 

"Something light, yeah. Okay. Love you."   
Greg pecked Mycroft's lips before hurrying off to the shopping area in the arena, leaving Mycroft to groom his corgi. On his walk to the stalls, Greg started to grill Sherlock through texts over his brother's secret hobby.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks fuel me! If you want to talk more about this fic, my tumblr is elton-hercules-john ❤️


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